


but let Justice run down like water

by SearchingforSerendipity



Category: Miss Marple - Agatha Christie
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6286993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SearchingforSerendipity/pseuds/SearchingforSerendipity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They call her Nemesis, after the goddess of righteous retribution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but let Justice run down like water

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пусть, как вода, течёт суд](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496992) by [WTF_Miss_Marple_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WTF_Miss_Marple_2018/pseuds/WTF_Miss_Marple_2018)



They call her Nemesis, after the goddess of righteous retribution. Not simply revenge, as the old tales would lead to believe. There is a balance to be kept, and the balance is just and ruthless. Her friends name her that, her enemies, fidgety police veterans whisper it to fidgety cadets. British do love their epithets. 

Pride does not suit her, for the search for truth require humility always, and a mind open to corrections, but it does give her a little flush, she'll admit, the name. More of a title, really, even if no one else knew it. The sort of pleasant hidden joke that made her eyes twinkle, every once in a while. No evil in an old woman enjoying a well deserved title, is there?

(and if it is not a joke and not a title and not just a silly nickname for a batty spinster, well. no evil in that, is there? 

judges are, after all, above reproach.)

As a child she had fancied herself more of an Athena, maidenly and brilliant, quiet mousy Jane too proper to be an Artemis. She had none of the warmth of Hestia. But she was not the creation of no man's mind, God or otherwise, and the flames of the hearth did not appeal overmuch. Marriage in general was not her cup of tea, so no chances of the Fates making an Hera out of her. Nemesis fit much better. Trouble did have a way of chasing her path. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Old minds would be forgiven the confusion.

She had a nephew, her old well worn friends. A pair of trusty knitting needles and pockets overflowing with handkerchiefs and gossip. More brains than a husband would know what to do with, so she has none. She's old now, wrinkled with years spent fully, if nothing else. Not a bad life, Jane Marple's. None of her lives were ever dull, at the very least.

Some more years yet, and she'd move on. Nemesis put down her teacup, dabbed her mouth. Ashes to ashes was all well and good, but everything in its time. For now, St. Mary's Mead was waking up and there were scales to be evened.


End file.
